


Sanzun-bōshi: Shirogane Takashi

by SharkGirl



Series: Voltron Holiday Series [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Drabble, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Retellings, Ice Fairies, Inch High Samurai!Shiro (though taller lol), M/M, Samurai, Snow, Thumbelin(o)!Lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 18:50:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13060017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkGirl/pseuds/SharkGirl
Summary: He was a medical marvel. A wonder. A man who, fully grown, was little more than three inches tall. He was born of normal-sized parents and raised in a loving home, but he'd always craved for more. He wanted be a great warrior like the ones in the stories his mother and father had read to him as a child.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not exactly a holiday fic, but it does take place in winter, so... XD  
> Requested by @a-brat-without-talent on tumblr. I hope you like it!!  
> I should mention that they actually requested a Thumbelina AU. But, what with me remembering maybe one scene from that movie (I'm so sorry!) this is what I came up with instead...
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely Jes~  
> Please enjoy!!

The wind whipped around him, stinging his face as he trudged through the newly fallen snow on makeshift snowshoes he’d fashioned from a pair of teaspoons. They were clunky and heavy, but they got the job done. But now the snow was piling higher, making it nearly impossible to continue moving forward, especially when the flakes were the size of his palm.

It was times like this that Shiro hated his height.

He was a medical marvel. A wonder. A man who, fully grown, was little more than three inches tall. He was born of normal-sized parents and raised in a loving home, but he'd always craved for more. He wanted be a great warrior like the ones in the stories his mother and father had read to him as a child.

But more than that, he wanted to know why. He yearned to know where he’d come from. He loved his family, but there was no way they were telling him the truth. Clearly, they were hiding something from him about his origin.

So, he’d set out on his own adventure, bidding his beloved parents goodbye and traveling to train with the samurai of a nearby lord.

‘Nearby’ being rather objective, as the short jaunt for normal people took Shiro a full three weeks to complete. But once he’d reached the _daimyō_ ’s home, he presented himself to the guards outside – two noble samurai who would later become his teachers. They’d laughed at first, but when he’d proven himself brave enough, he’d been accepted into the household and trained properly.

Shiro could have lived comfortably there, but the desire to learn of how he’d come to be proved far too great and so, with what little he could carry on his back, he bid them farewell and continued on his journey.

The snow was really accumulating now, causing his silver-plated shoes to sink deeper into the powdery softness with each step. Shiro seriously considered stopping for the night. But it was still light and there was nowhere to go. The closest town was a three days’ walk behind him and the next was clear over the mountain ahead.

But he had to think of something.

Perhaps he could build a shelter from the pine trees surrounding him. But as he reached for his sword – one the lord’s daughter had made for him by sharpening one of her sewing needles – he found it to be frozen in its scabbard.

Shiro cursed his luck, his brow furrowing over his scarred nose – a souvenir from his first battle, when he’d protected his mistress from the vile ogre that dared to attack her in her room. He’d earned his place in the lord’s home that night and, as the wind picked up again, Shiro suddenly wished he could be back working as the young girl’s bodyguard, sleeping in the comfort of his _inrō_  bed beside her pillow in her warm bedroom.

Suddenly, something whizzed by and Shiro barely caught sight of it out of the corner of his eye. And just as he began to wonder if he’d been imagining things, there came another, a crystal clear arrow, which had burrowed itself halfway into the snow just in front of his feet.

He looked up, preparing to defend himself, but what he saw caused him to falter. Shiro had heard of fairies, but he’d never seen one with his own eyes. And the ones he’d read about were sweet and friendly beings who lived in glens and beneath toadstools. But there, hovering above him, were at least half a dozen fierce-looking warriors, their hands gripping their bows, preparing to form more icy arrows to shoot his way, and their wings glittering in the fading light of the setting sun.

“Why have you come here?” one asked, his string drawn back.

Shiro had learned how to address nobility and speak to great warriors while training under the samurai. He took a knee and bowed deeply. “I mean you no ill will,” he began, the snow soaking into the fabric of his pants. “I am simply on a journey.”

“He is a _rōnin_ ,” one of them said.

“But he’s far too small to be human,” added another.

“And he has no wings,” a third chimed in.

Shiro gritted his teeth, but said nothing in response, waiting instead for their leader to speak.

“You have trespassed on the land of the Ice Fairies,” he said, narrowing his eyes and turning to his fellow guards. “Take him to Princess Allura.”

Everything happened so quickly and suddenly, Shiro found himself trudging through the snow once more, his wrists bound together, his hands encased in ice. It was strange. His fingers should have been freezing, but the ice around them was warm to the touch.

Magic, he supposed.

He was led toward the trunk of a large tree. The leader pressed his palm against it and the cracks in the bark illuminated, glowing a light blue, before they dimmed and a door appeared, opening and revealing a long hallway. Cautiously, Shiro stepped inside, sighing as he breathed in the warm air.

No sooner had he entered, did another fairy seem to materialize before him. He wasn’t dressed in the same clothing as the warriors. He had no armor, only what Shiro would describe as dress robes. Perhaps something a member of the royal family or one of their advisors might wear.

“What’s this?” he asked, twisting the end of his mustache between his fingers. He didn’t wait for an answer. He spread his pearlescent wings and hovered in the air, flying in close and inspecting Shiro.

“Coran, sir, we found him wandering around on our land,” the leader of the guard replied.

“I see…” the man, Coran, replied, rubbing his chin. Then he glanced over Shiro’s shoulder and raised his brows. “The princess will want to see him right away.”

Shiro frowned at that, turning his head to look at whatever it was that had caught Coran’s eye, but he was shoved forward and didn’t get the chance.

The hallway was long and his legs were tired. Thankfully, they’d removed his snowshoes, so he didn’t slip on the slick, glass-like floor, clearly made of whatever enchanted ice that bound his hands.

He’d dealt with magical creatures before, but he was significantly outnumbered. So, his only hope was that this princess would be kind and understanding. He didn’t mean to trespass, after all.

When they arrived in the throne room, the doors were practically slammed shut behind them. The room was nearly empty, save for what appeared to be servants, who skittered away, their eyes wide as they took in Shiro’s form.

“This had better be important,” a strong, commanding voice echoed off of the domed ceiling.

Shiro faced away from the doorway and toward the dais, where a regal young woman stood, her chin held high. Her wings were folded behind her, the points of her long ears poking out from a long veil of soft, white hair.

She turned and narrowed ice blue eyes at Shiro. “Who is this man?”

“We are unsure, Your Highness,” the leader of the guard said, bowing low. “He was found trespassing on our land.” He pulled something from behind his back. It was Shiro’s sword. “And he was carrying this.”

The princess drew her brows down, her nose wrinkling at the sight of the weapon. “He is a samurai,” she surmised, frown deepening. Then her gaze flicked back toward him, her expression curious. “He has no wings?”

“None, Your Highness,” it was Coran who answered this time. “Do you think perhaps…?”

But he was interrupted by the cracking sound of double doors being swung open and hitting the walls, echoing loudly in the circular room.

They all turned toward the ruckus and Shiro gasped. Between the doors, bracing himself against the frame, was a young man. He was bent slightly at the middle, panting as he fought to catch his breath. Then he stood up to his full height.

He was beautiful. His skin smooth and dark. And his eyes, although blue like the princess’s, reminded Shiro of the sea during a storm. The color made all the more apparent by how wide they’d grown when he finally focused on him. But more than his gorgeous eyes, Shiro noticed his ears, which were short and rounded at the tips like his own, unlike the pointed ones the fairies sported, and his wings, or lack thereof.

The man who stood in the doorway was not an ice fairy. He wasn’t a fairy at all. Shiro could feel the words bubbling up in his throat, dancing on the tip of his tongue. They came out so forcefully, he barely registered that the other man had uttered them at the exact same time.

“He’s like me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I feel like there should be a sequel.~~ Yup. ^^;;  
>  If you haven't read the Inch-High Samurai, I would highly suggest it! It's a trip, lol.
> 
> Let me know what you think and hit me up on my Voltron sideblog [@bleucheesy](http://bleucheesy.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Definitions:  
>  _daimyō_ \- Lord  
>  _inrō_ \- wooden box used to store small objects, worn suspended from an obi  
>  _rōnin_ \- wandering samurai with no master


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew I'd end up writing more for this one. I could just feel it, ya know?  
> Thank you to everyone who left comments about wanting a continuation! You all rock and I love you!!
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely Jes, once again. (You really helped!)  
> Please enjoy some Lance POV~

Lance knew the moment someone had entered the tree. He’d spotted the light blue glow through the long, thin windows of his chambers. He sighed from his place on the bed, rolling over onto his stomach. It was probably the guards returning from their shift.

Nothing exciting ever happened. Which he supposed was a good thing. It meant that all the fairies were safe. And the people’s safety was of the upmost importance to their leader, the wise and kind Princess Allura.

Lance sighed and curled up on his side. He missed her. She’d been so busy lately, preparing for winter. And his best friend hibernated during this time of year, so there was no sneaking out to visit him amongst the rocks and boulders at the foot of the mountain. Not like he could have managed that, anyway, as the quickest way through the snow for a wingless oddity like him was to take a mouse-drawn sled. And Allura always seemed to know the moment he planned on heading out in one.

He swore she and the mice had some sort of psychic link or something.

So, he waited. And sighed. And waited some more. Perhaps, if he behaved himself and stayed in his room, Coran would come up with cookies and tea to entertain him.

“Ugh,” Lance groaned, tossing and turning until he was on his back, his arms and legs spread out wide as he stared up at the ceiling.

He felt like a child. No, Allura _treated_ him like a child. Always had, from the moment she’d taken him in. But he was a man now, wasn’t he? Didn’t he deserve a little freedom? A little excitement? Something?

“What I wouldn’t give for something, _anything_ to happen around here-” but he was cut off by frantic knocking at his chamber door.

Quirking a brow, Lance sat up. It couldn’t be Coran. He tended to knock with more authority and usually in a familiar pattern and rhythm, almost like a song. These knocks were made by far smaller, less regal hands.

“Come in,” he called, not bothering to leave his bed. And immediately the doors flew open, revealing two of the princess’s handmaidens. Both were rosy-cheeked and out of breath. Normally, Lance would have pointed that out, suggestively batting his eyelashes and asking if he was the cause of their obvious flustered state. But something in their eyes stopped him in his tracks.

“Master Lance,” one said, standing up only to bow deeply. “There’s a man in the throne room.”

“A man?” Lance sat up straighter, furrowing his brow. It was true that the Princess rarely granted an audience outside of visiting nobility, but that still didn’t seem like something to fuss over. “I don’t-”

“He’s different!” the other piped up. “He has no wings and his ears…they’re-”

Lance didn’t let her finish. He was already up and out of bed, bursting out of his room and tearing through the hallway.

It couldn’t be. They must have been mistaken. And yet…he needed to know. Needed to see for himself. In all his years, he’d never met anyone else like him. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one of his kind, after all. Maybe this person, this man, was…whatever Lance was. Maybe he wasn’t alone.

The bottom of his slippers slapped against the smooth, icy floors, echoing all around him, but he hardly heard them over the blood rushing in his ears. He was nearly there, just a few more steps.

He pushed open the doors with a bit more force that was necessary and winced as they hit the walls on the opposite side, the cracking sound reverberating through the throne room. But he didn’t have time to worry about that or the fact that he’d barged in without so much as a courtesy knock. There was something he needed to confirm first.

Lance caught his breath and raised his head, his gaze zeroing in on the stranger, the wingless man with rounded ears and a scar across the bridge of his nose. He was Lance’s height, perhaps a bit taller, but most definitely of the same species. There were too many similarities. But, wow, was he ever handsome. Unlike anyone Lance had ever seen – including the other elemental fairies who’d come to their kingdom.

No, this man, with his gray eyes and dark hair sporting a curious tuft of white, he was something different. Something special. He was…

“Like me,” Lance breathed, hardly believing it.

The man seemed to echo him, or perhaps they’d said it at the same time. He stared at Lance in rapt fascination, and if Lance weren’t so intent on studying him and memorizing every little detail, he might have looked away, flushing to his ears. But he remained, taking it all in.

Then Allura cleared her throat, catching his attention.

“I don’t suppose there’s any point in hiding it from you,” she said sternly, though her eyes softened as Lance obediently walked over to her side. “Not that I would have.”

“Who is he?” Lance asked, itching to turn back toward the stranger, but not wanting to appear disrespectful to his princess.

“I’m afraid we haven’t gotten that far,” she said, lips curving into a gentle smile. “It appears word travels fast.” Lance blushed, but nodded. “Shall we ask him together?” Again, he bobbed his head.

“Your Highness.” But it was the man who spoke. Allura and Lance, along with Coran and the guards – who Lance had only just noticed were also in the room – snapped their heads toward him. “I mean no disrespect,” he continued, eying the guards warily. Wise, Lance thought. No one was more skilled with a bow than their leader, though Lance was a pretty sharp shot, himself. “I am Shirogane Takashi, a humble samurai seeking to learn where I came from.” His gaze darted to Lance.

Lance swallowed, his cheeks heating under Shirogane’s intense gaze.

“Mr. Shirogane,” Allura began. “I have no way of verifying your story,” she said and the man’s shoulder’s slumped, if only slightly. “But the storm has gotten worse and I can’t very well toss you out into a blizzard.” She turned toward her guards. “Lock his weapon in the treasury,” she ordered. “And Lance,” she glanced at him, “Please escort Mr. Shirogane to one of the guest rooms.”

The man looked shocked. Did he believe fairies to be cruel? Did he think Allura was going to throw him into a cell or something?

“Thank you, Princess.” The samurai took a knee and placed a hand over his heart. “Your hospitality is greatly appreciated.”

“See that you do not squander it,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “If not for my young ward’s interest, you would be sleeping with the mice.”

Lance knew Allura wasn’t being serious. And he’d get her later for that ‘young ward’ jab, but he was too excited at the prospect of talking to the man who looked so much like him. And so, without wasting any more time, he hopped off of the dais and skipped over to him, wrapping an arm around one of his – goodness, his biceps were three times the size of Lance’s! – and led him toward the double doors.

They walked in silence for a bit. Lance was overjoyed, but also nervous. He didn’t know where to begin. Thankfully, the samurai spoke first.

“I’d like to thank you,” he said, turning warm, dark gray eyes on him. “You saved me from sleeping with the animals.”

“O-Oh,” Lance stammered, face flushing. “Allura—er—the princess didn’t really mean all that,” he said. “She was just trying to scare you, Mr. Shirogane.”

“Shiro,” he corrected and Lance raised his brows. “Just Shiro is fine… Lance, was it?”

He’d remembered his name! Well, of course he had, Lance was pretty unforgettable. And Shiro _had_ been staring at him, after all.

“Yes,” Lance answered, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “Yes, it’s Lance… uh, Shiro.”

They took a few more silent steps. Lance bit his lip. He’d killed the conversation. He was normally really good at this. Like, unfairly good. He wooed nobles and visiting diplomats as a hobby. But Shiro… Shiro was different.

“Have you lived here long?” Shiro asked, pulling him from his reverie.

“Oh, yeah.” Lance ducked his head. “Pretty much as long as I can remember.” He had vague flashes of his life before, but they were few and far between, dimmed with age. “And you? Have you always wandered?”

Shiro’s jaw twitched and Lance dove to apologize, but Shiro lifted his other hand and waved him off. “I grew up with my parents in a small seaside town,” he said. “When I was old enough, I left to train with the samurai. But as much as I cared for the lord and his family, I knew I needed to continue my journey. To find out who or…what I am.”

Lance nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Were they like us?” he asked softly.

“Who?”

“Your parents,” he clarified. “Were they like you and me?”

“Oh.” Shiro seemed to understand. “No, they were human,” he explained. “Regular size.”

“Regular size…” Lance repeated. He’d rarely seen even glimpses of humans. They were dangerous and not welcome in their realm. “I see.”

“But they were kind and loving,” Shiro went on. “But enough about me.” He paused mid-step and faced Lance, taking both of his hands in his. “It’s you I’m interested in.”

“M-Me?” Lance blinked.

“In all my travels, I’ve never met anyone quite like you,” Shiro said and, half a second later, he released Lance’s hands, his cheeks tinting pink. “That is…” He averted his gaze, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to-”

But Lance didn’t let him finish. “You know what?” he asked, not expecting an answer. “Forget the guest room.”

“What?” Shiro opened his mouth, his brows knitting together. “Lance, if I overstepped, I’m-”

“You’re spending the night with me,” Lance said resolutely, trying to ignore how his cheeks burned. “Samurai have sleepovers, right?” Shiro didn’t answer, he just stared dumbly at Lance. Yeah, he got that a lot. People tended to fall speechless in his presence. “Let me break it down for you,” he went on. “You, me-” he pointed between them “-up all night, swapping stories.”

Shiro still seemed to be at a loss for words, but he nodded.

“Good!” Lance beamed. “My room is this way.” And with that, he dragged a blushing Shiro toward his chambers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh...I really like this AU ^^;
> 
> As always, let me know what you think and hit me up on my Voltron sideblog [@bleucheesy](http://bleucheesy.tumblr.com)!


End file.
